


Greenhound and the Elder Wolf - an elvhen legend

by knifeear



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Book: Dragon Age - The Masked Empire, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Dalish Lore, Folklore, Gen, Other, fable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:08:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knifeear/pseuds/knifeear
Summary: The Keeper had a great many hounds, da'len, but this story is about the bravest of them.[a stylized elvhen legend, written in response to a one-word prompt: "mountain"]





	Greenhound and the Elder Wolf - an elvhen legend

The Keeper had a great many hounds, da'len, but this story is about the bravest of them.

This hound was the size of a small bull and thrice as stubborn, with a braided tail all of green. She guarded her clan against every manner of beast from dawn till dusk, coursed game for the hunters, even charged with the warriors to do battle. And her shaggy coat was the color of the forest, for she was Touched by the Otherworld, where in dreams she watched over the Peoples’ wandering spirits whilst they slumbered. In return, she could lie by her master’s fire, and her belly was always filled with the finest meat.

One day, as the sun split the sky, the hound found the Keeper sitting on a birchstump by her aravel. She was bereft, tears bright as morning dew.

"Keeper," said the faithful hound, canting her head just so, "Why is it you weep?"

"My apprentice did not rise from sleep this morning. No matter how hard I try, or how loud I shout, I cannot wake her."

The hound looked to the grass pallet where the hunters had laid the apprentice down, but it was as the Keeper said - no matter how hard she tried, or how loud she barked, she could not wake her.

"Keeper," yowled the hound, returning to her master's side at once, "How did this come to be?"

"I have read the winds and the wailing willows," said the Keeper, "And a cloud has settled over me. I fear the Elder Wolf has stolen her soul away."

The hound's great heart grew heavy to learn that she herself was the cause of the Keeper's grief.

"Abelas!" she cried, "Abelas. I am the deeproot of your pain, my Keeper. The dread old wolf must have made off with her dreaming spirit when I paused in my watch to feast. Your sorrow is mine." And at this, the hound bayed high and low, right along with the Keeper's keening. "I will not beg your forgiveness nor your leniency. Wise Keeper, tell me, what must I do?"

The Keeper's face grew grave. "Loyal Hound," said she, "You must run far, far, far, across the shining sea, through the land where things are not as they seem, to the Elder Wolf's lair at the top of the mountain where the sky is held. There lies the entrance to a twisting cave, the gateway from the waking world to his domain in the Other Place. There he sits on his pile of souls, and there you shall find her. Bring me the bone of his jaw, that I may be sure the People are safe everafter."

"I shall," agreed the hound, "I will not return without the soul of your apprentice and the bone of the old wolf's jaw, even if I must run for a year and a day."

So vowing, the hound departed.

In time she came to a wildborn moor. She ran, ran, ran all day until it grew dark, and when it grew dark she came upon a nook. In the nook crouched an old hag tending a fire, dressed all in gray. Like unto a dragon she was - with her long nails, and her long teeth, and her hair like rusted bone. The old hag beckoned, and the hound sat.

"Green Dog," crooned the crone, face blue-black with soot and voice like winter, "What have we here? Whence did you come, and where is it you plan to go?"

"I came from the red sails of Home," answered the hound, for she was nothing if not honest, "I am running far, far, far, across the shining sea, through the land where things are not as they seem, to the Elder Wolf's lair at the top of the mountain where the sky is held. The Keeper bade me."

The hag's laugh echoed through all the Wilds as rolling thunder. "And what will you do there?"

"I seek the entrance to the Otherworld. I shall bring the Keeper the stolen soul of her sleeping apprentice, and the bone of the old wolf's jaw."

"My," chuckled the hag, "That is quite the voyage you plan, and all for the sake of a girl and a bone - how very like a dog. Well then, my curiosity is sated. But I warn you, hunt not the deer on these moors, for they are my cattle."

"Mother," said the hound, with a thump of her plaited tail, "I have not, and I will not. But I must eat if I am to continue on my way."

"I will turn your stomach to stone," replied the hag, eyes aglint like pieces of pyrite, "That you shall know no hunger for a year and a day."

The hag did as she promised, so the hound thanked her and went on her way. She ran and ran, and Purpose was her guide, and Valor was her attendant, and sure enough she reached the edge of the ocean.

But the shining sea was wide, and the hound knew in her heart of hearts she could not swim over - and certainly not with her stomach all weighted down with stone. Yet she had no wings with which to fly, nor had she the means to sail, and her belly was bewitched for a year and a day. The hound's tail drooped, but she did not despair. Instead she sat back on her haunches, and steadfast as the turn of seasons, waited on the shore. And true to the crone's word, she knew no bite of hunger, nor famine's gnaw, for a year and a day.

Thus the hound waited and waited, and her hunger was beginning to return, when who should pass but Ghil'dirthera the Fox. Stopping, he addressed her without preamble.

"No wonder your whiskers are downturned, Green Dog," said he, "We've met on a bad evening. All I have to eat is venison and brown bread. We'll have to make do with that."

So saying, they lit a fire and toasted the scraps of food.

"Fox," said the curious hound while they awaited the browning of their dinner, "How is it that your eyes are violet?"

"How came your coat to be green?" he countered, sleek and sly as smoke.

"I was Touched by the Otherworld," said she, straightforward as an arrow.

At this Ghil'dirthera's interest was piqued. "I rather want for a keg of butter. Alas, such as it is. Now, tell me your story."

So the hound told the Fox her story over their scanty supper. " - though the shining sea is wide, and I cannot swim over, yet neither have I wings nor the means to sail."

'Tis true he thought her a simple creature, but the Fox impressed. And as it happened this Fox's clever ways were forever granting him insight into the heart of things; he glanced at her sidelong. "Nevertheless, you intend to start swimming."

The hound nodded, thinking longingly of red sails, of the vow she had sworn.

"Green Dog of Red Sails," the Fox announced, "I shall help you. On the ‘moro, we'll go to the edge of the ocean. I'll turn myself into a boat. You'll go on board and I'll take you over the shining sea."

The hound nodded, and after dinner they slept side by side under a blackberry vine till morning.

"When you reach the other side," said the Fox as they went down to the ocean's edge, "The land you'll find yourself in is a place of dread and looking glass. I cannot venture there, so heed now my advice. Do not break bread with the denizens of that place, for they seek to yoke and deceive. Stay your course, and give them nothing. When you reach the Elder Wolf's lair at the top of the mountain where the sky is held, look not so proud, or he will be jealous. And make no mention of your quest. He mustn't find out why your coat is green, lest you invite your doom. He will ask you three times, and you mustn't quail - remember, you are but a simple mongrel. Obey my words to the letter, Green Dog, and trust in me."

Presently Ghil'dirthera shapeshifted himself into a boat. The hound boarded as they had agreed, and he bore her over the shining sea without delay. On the far shore they made land and she leapt off. But when she turned back to thank him, there was only a small stick of driftwood floating in the surf.

Still, the trusty hound set off once more, and ran deep into the land where things are not as they seem. North was south, and west was east, but she did not falter. She was passing through an ancient acropolis when she came upon an Owl. Its feathers cloaked it in the murk of greydark, and the curve of its beak was wicked. It bade her stop.

"Dog," it hooted from an alcove, "O where are you going?"

"To visit the old wolf," said she.

"The howl of the Elder Wolf foretells death to any and all who hear it," said the Owl, "Kneel before me, and I will give you power over Life itself. Or the carrion crows will croak your requiem."

"I will not," said the hound, and went on her way.

She was passing through the ruins of a temple palace when she came upon a Raven. Its plumage had the lustre of oil, and its eyes were beady. It bade her stop.

"Dog," it cawed from atop a pillar, "O where are you going?"

"To visit the old wolf," said she.

"The Elder Wolf is no ordinary wolf. Two chains are needed to hold each leg, with five men pulling tight on each end," said the Raven. "Tell me your one True Name, and I will give you the Secret Knowledge needed to outwit him. Or your guts will be slung all across the wastes."

"I will not," said the hound, and went on her way.

She was passing through a blasted peatbog when she came upon a Hawk. Its pupils were rimmed rusty-red, and its talons were keen. It bade her stop.

"Dog," it shrieked from the sky above, "O where are you going?"

"To visit the old wolf," said she.

"The Elder Wolf Blights all the land that he touches," said the Hawk, "Promise me the fruits of your every hunt from this day till your last day, and I will give you a great and terrible weapon with which to spear him. Or rats will dance upon your bones."

"I will not," said the hound, and went on her way.

At long last our hound came to the base of the mountain where the sky is held. The mountainsides were littered with blackened scree and broken cairns, while the peak vaulted high into the clouds. She climbed and climbed, and Duty lent wings to her feet, and Hope lit a fire in her chest, and sure enough, she reached the summit. There indeed lay the entrance to a twisting cave, and in front of it on his pile of souls lounged the Elder Wolf.

In the land of dreams he donned a snowy-white glamor, yet here he was an eldritch warg. But there was no mistaking him, for their spirits had collided many times in the Other Place, where at night she guarded her dreaming flock against his prowling. He was of a size with a dragon, and his pelt steamed and rippled like boiling tar. His many eyes recalled the spider, and a single Other eye blazed in the center of his forehead red as ochre. Deepsmoke billowed from his nose with every breath, turning the air bittercold, and between his great paws he rolled a magic gourd. The voice of a fox whispered in the hound's ear just then; this gourd caged the stolen soul of the Keeper's apprentice.

The hound sounded three fierce barks as she drew near.

"Fool dog," thundered the abomination from everywhere and nowhere, a dirge in every word in time with the rolling of the gourd, "Be you lost? Why do you trespass here at the gateway of my domain?"

She shook her shaggy head. "Not lost am I. I flew straight and did not waver. I came unto this prideful place to learn Wisdom at the feet of the old wolf."

All of his eyes regarded her impassively, and the single Other eye blinked. "Hmm," he rumbled, and the gourd became still, "'Tis true I seek an acolyte to carry out my will and receive what I know. But first, tell me true, who are you, and how is it that your coat is green?"

"I lay down to rest in a dell one afternoon," answered the hound without hesitation, sleek and sly as smoke, "and I slept so long that the moss grew over me. I am but a simple dog. I lie on the elders' feet to keep them warm in winter."

"That may be so," said the Elder Wolf, dread maw curling as both his head and ire rose, the gourd lying forgotten, "But you dared to voyage ‘cross the shining sea. I ask again, who are you, and how is it that your coat is green?"

"I shirked my duties one morning to go chasing frogs in the glen," answered the hound without skipping a beat, "and the mages changed the color of my fur as a badge of shame. I am but a simple dog. I fetch kindling for the hearths."

"That may be so," said the Elder Wolf, terrible fangs gleaming as he hauled up his hulking mass and advanced, setting the gourd to skitter away behind him, "But you crossed unsullied through the land where things are not as they seem. I ask again for the third and final time, tell me true - who are you, and how is it that your coat is green?"

"I fancied a swim in a pond one summerday," answered the hound in no time at all, "and the water was scummed over with weeds. I am but a simple dog. I gambol with the children while they play."

At this little pup's stinking audacity, the Elder Wolf was maddened, and at once became possessed of a rage. Without warning he flew at her, jaws snapping wide. His bounding strides clawed up enormous chunks of rock, and the gourd rolled off the edge of the plateau and bounced down the mountainside.

With a ferocious bay the brave hound leapt forth to meet him, and together they clashed. The wolf, who had believed her a simple dog, was surprised by the might of her, and quickly came to know that she was no simple dog at all, but the green-glowing cur that hounded him in the Otherworld! She caught hold of his tail, and round and round they surged for three bitter nights and three bitter days, with nary a thought or pause. The spirits who dwelt at the foot of the mountain would say after that no reckoning between beast and courser, before or since, has been like to that great battle. And at last, when all her sinews were screaming and all her teeth were straining, the hound felled him, and finally the Elder Wolf was no more.

For a long time, longer than I can say, the hound lay bloodied and battered next to the steaming corpse of the old wolf. When enough of her strength finally returned, she divested the husk of its jaw as the Keeper had bade, and picked her way down the mountain to where the gourd lay nestled in rubble. Taking both between her teeth, she wended back through the land where things are not as they seem to the edge of the ocean. Sure enough, a familiar wooden boat rocked up to the shore. She boarded without question, and it took her back across the shining sea. When they made land she disembarked as before, and when she turned there was the Fox standing violet-eyed in the surf.

"You would be welcome," said the hound to the Fox by way of thanks, "To hunt near my master's camp, and take any game you wish. I will forbid my master's people to fire even a single arrow at you, even if you take halla from their herds."

"Keep your herds of halla!" the Fox laughed, the fur around his eyes coiling like autumn leaves in the light of the setting sun, "There are plenty of halla to be had without troubling a Green Dog like you." And with that, Ghil'dirthera went on his way.

Now the hound could no longer run, but still she kept on, and still she kept on, until at last one morn she crested a hill and caught sight of the red sails of Home.

The children of the clan crowed in greeting and ran to meet her and tug at her coat - she would have leapt for joy and cavorted with them in spite of her sore paws, were it not for the burden in her muzzle. Instead she limped straight to the Keeper's aravel, and laid the tokens at her feet.

"Keeper," said the faithful hound, "Do you still weep?"

"I do not," answered the Keeper, and indeed her face was strong and clear.

"Wise Keeper," said the hound, "I did as you bade. I ran far, far, far, across the shining sea, through the land where things are not as they seem, to the Elder Wolf's lair at the top of the mountain where the sky is held. There lay the entrance to a twisting cave, the gateway from the waking world to his domain in the Other Place. There he sat on his pile of souls, and there I found her. I have brought you the bone of his jaw, and the magic gourd which contains the stolen soul of your apprentice."

"Loyal Hound," said the Keeper, laying her hand on that shaggy green head, "I have read the winds and the wailing willows, and a cloud has been lifted from me."

Thus the Keeper drew the soul of her apprentice from the gourd and returned it to her body, and the clan rejoiced. The hound lay once more by her master's fire, and soon her belly was filled with the finest meat.

And the Keeper shattered the bone of the old wolf's jaw, and bound the fragments in the Void, and the People lived in peace everafter.

_\-- As told by Lady Ellorian of the New Dales to her son, 14:47 Golden_

**Author's Note:**

> A stylized elvhen legend, partially inspired by several aspects of Scottish folklore. A oneshot written in response to a one-word prompt from pandabamboozler of Tumblr (cheers!) - “mountain”. Ellorian belongs to vir-ghilani of Tumblr - thankyou very much for letting me borrow her! Thanks are also due to beta breezytealy of Tumblr - your enthusiasm, ruthlessness, detailed feedback & helpful advice were super appreciated.
> 
> Posted to Tumblr if you would prefer to read it there instead - http://jaalamadarav.tumblr.com/post/165243104063/greenhound-and-the-elder-wolf-an-elvhen-legend


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